by Kitty Neale
Amy’s mother was just as bad, Celia thought, lying when she said she didn’t know where her cousin was. Of course she knew, and no doubt Amy did too. Well, that was something she’d talk to Thomas about. At least he’d be able to get that information from Amy and when he did, she’d be able to confront George. She needed to vent her feelings, to tell George just what she thought of him, and that tart he’d left her for would feel the sting of her hand across her face.
That thought made Celia feel a little better, and when her son came downstairs to find his dinner ready and on the table, she had a story in place. She waited until they were both seated and then said, ‘Thomas, I don’t feel I can move on with my life until I can ask your father for a divorce.’
‘Don’t you think it’s too soon to think about divorce? Dad might realise he’s made a mistake and come home.’
‘I’d slam the door in his face! After leaving me for
that common woman, I’d never take him back!’ Celia snapped.
‘Are you sure, Mum? Divorce seems so … so final.’
Celia took a deep breath, endeavouring to sound calm. ‘Yes, I’m sure, Thomas. The problem is, I don’t know how to contact your father. As he left with a cousin of her mother’s, Amy must know where they are, so when you see her tonight, would you ask her for their address?’
‘I can ask her, but I doubt she’ll know.’
‘At least try,’ Celia urged.
Thomas agreed and then tucked into his food, while Celia just picked at hers. After all she had faced that day she had no appetite, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get George’s betrayal out of her mind. It was then she remembered something and asked, ‘Thomas, did you bring the account books home?’
‘No, sorry, I forgot, but as I told you they’re up to date, so you don’t have to worry about them.’
‘It isn’t that I’m worried. I just need something to do, something to take my mind off your father. It will at least help me to feel that I’m of some use.’
Thomas quietly ate his food, but at last he said, ‘All right, Mum. You can take over the accounts, but there’s little for you to do yet.’
‘Thank you, darling,’ Celia said. It was a start, but in the future she hoped to gain control of all their finances.
Amy arrived home a little later than usual, and as dinner was ready she’d have to eat it before going to see Carol. Now though, she was listening to her mother, aghast as she continued, ‘Not only did the woman barge in demanding to know where Rose is; she called me a liar and a tart!’
Before Amy could react, her father said angrily, ‘I’m not going to let her get away with that.’
‘It’s all right, Stan. I dealt with it. I chucked her out.’
‘She called you a tart and deserves more than that. If Celia Frost was a man I’d knock her off her feet.’
‘Well she isn’t, and as I said, I dealt with it. Now come on, Amy, give me a hand in the kitchen.’
Amy shared her father’s anger that Celia Frost had called her mother a tart, and as she followed her into the kitchen, she said, ‘I didn’t think it would be long before the truth came out. Tommy wasn’t going to tell his mother yet, but now that the gossip has reached her she had no right to barge in here like that.’
‘You’re right, but the fact that it got out is my fault, Amy; well, partially. I’m sorry, love, but when Mabel heard some gossip about Rose I assumed it was about her running off with George Frost. As I thought Mabel knew I started talking about it, but it wasn’t what she’d heard. Of course, it was too late then, but Mabel promised to keep it to herself. I should have known better – Mabel couldn’t keep her mouth shut and broke that promise, but I’m finished with her. I told her that she’ll never be welcome in my house again.’
‘Mum, you’ve been friends for years; there was no need for that. I told Tommy the truth and he was going to tell his mum. She just got to hear about it a bit earlier, that’s all.’
‘Mabel still betrayed my trust.’
‘She thrives on gossip and you must have known she wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself,’ Amy pointed out.
‘I don’t want to talk about Mabel any more. There’s something else I need to tell you, but it’s not for your father’s ears. You saw how he reacted when I said that Celia Frost called me a tart, well he’d go potty if I owned up that she called you a tart too. Not only that, she told me to keep you away from her son as she doesn’t want him tainted by the likes of you.’
Amy was dumbfounded and once again she found herself gawking at her mother. ‘I … I’m supposed to be seeing Tommy tonight.’
‘If his mother’s got anything to do with it, you won’t be, and if you ask me it’s probably for the best.’
‘I can’t stand her, but I … I really like Tommy.’
Her mother sighed, ‘That may be, but as your dad and me have said before, you should think long and hard about what sort of future you’d have with him. You could end up with Celia Frost as your mother-in-law, and do you really want that? Now, dwell on what I’ve said and in the meantime take your dad’s dinner through to him. I’ll bring ours.’
Amy did think about it while she was eating. She had sensed that Celia Frost didn’t like her and had been intimidated by her haughty and superior manner, but now it was as if the worm had turned and Amy was angry. Celia Frost had called her mother a tart, had labelled her as one too, and at last Amy came to a decision. If Tommy came to take her out later she would have a few things to say to him. It tore Amy up to think it might be the end of their relationship, yet she had to speak her mind.
‘Amy, I went to see Daphne Cole and Carol today.’
‘Are they all right?’ she asked, her thoughts turning swiftly to her friend.
‘Daphne wasn’t there. She’s gone to look after a sick aunt, but I’m worried about Carol. She still looks really ill, and upset about something, though she wouldn’t tell me what the problem is. Maybe she’ll talk to you.’
‘I’ll go along to see her,’ Amy said and, anxious about Carol, she bolted down the rest of her dinner.
Frank Cole was a worried and angry man as once again he had to go out to buy a takeaway meal. He was sick of fish and chips, and this time decided on a longer walk to the pie and mash shop. He’d arrived home to find his daughter dozing on the sofa, still in her nightclothes and the housework untouched. He’d left her the money to get some food in, but she hadn’t been outside the house and at first he’d done his nut, only to backtrack when Carol had curled into a ball, sobbing.
He didn’t know what to do, how to cope with her,
and just hoped she’d pull herself together soon. Frank decided that what he needed was a stiff drink, and breaking his journey he called in at the Park Tavern. There were several men in there, all still in their work clothes and obviously having a couple of drinks before they headed home.
‘Watcha, Frank,’ the landlord said. ‘What can I get you?’
‘A pint of bitter, please.’
‘Coming up,’ he said, pulling the pump. ‘I don’t suppose you know of anyone looking for a bit of bar work do you?’
‘No, sorry.’
‘Well if you do, head them in my direction. I’ve been left in a fix since my barmaid, Rose, went off with George Frost.’
‘You’re kidding! This is the first I’ve heard about it.’
‘It’s a fact, though I only found out why Rose really left when the gossip reached me,’ he said, then moving away to serve another customer.
Frank took a long drink then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He had too many problems of his own to show any interest in Rose and George Frost.
Still, he thought, at least it would keep the gossips busy and with any luck they’d be too occupied to question the story that Daphne had gone to look after a fictitious aunt in Kent. It would keep them at bay for now – yet for how long?
Amy could see why her mum was worried. Carol looked awful and had obvio
usly been crying. She was in her nightclothes, her hair lank, and sitting next to her, Amy could smell her body odour. She said that her dad had gone out to get them something to eat, and worriedly Amy said, ‘Carol, I don’t think they should have let you leave the hospital. You still look really ill.’
‘I’m all right.’
‘You don’t look well enough to come back to work, but Mrs Jones won’t be able to keep your job open unless you’ve got a sick note.’
‘I’m not coming back. I’m handing in my notice.’
Shocked and upset, Amy asked, ‘But why?’
‘My mum’s gone to … to look after a sick relative and until she comes back, I’m needed at home. There’s the housework, cooking and …’ Carol’s voice trailed off as though she didn’t have the energy to carry on.
‘I know you’ll hate being stuck at home. Is that why you’ve been crying?’
‘No … Yes … Oh, please, Amy, stop asking me
questions.’
‘I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m worried about you.’
‘Well don’t be. I’ve had food poisoning that’s all, and it’s left me a bit drained. Now, my dad will be back soon so I’d better lay the table,’ Carol said as she slowly, but pointedly rose to her feet.
Though Amy could see how pale her friend looked, Carol’s tone felt like a dismissal and she reluctantly stood up too. ‘All right, but if you need anything …’
‘I’ll let you know,’ Carol finished for her.
‘I’ll call in again to see you tomorrow.’
‘Don’t do that. There’s no need,’ Carol said, her eyes dull and her tone cold.
Amy’s stomach lurched. They had been friends for so long, shared so many confidences, but now it felt as though Carol was treating her like an unwelcome stranger. Like her mother, Amy felt that there was more to Carol’s state of mind than food poisoning and she tried again. ‘Carol, I know you’re still ill, but if there’s something else worrying you, please, let me help.’
‘I’m sick of this. I said I’m fine and I don’t need you pestering me. Go away and leave me alone.’
‘Carol, you can’t mean that!’
There was no reaction to Amy’s plea, just cold words as Carol said, ‘And shut the door behind you.’
Too choked to speak now, Amy reluctantly left. Yet no matter what Carol said, or how many times she tried to dismiss her, Amy wasn’t going to give up. Something dreadful must have happened to turn Carol into this cold stranger, and when she was ready to talk about it, Amy was going to be there for her friend.
Chapter Eighteen
Stan had been deep in thought and he’d hardly listened when Amy came back from seeing Carol, although she and Phyllis had yammered on about it for ages.
Now though Phyllis was at work, and Amy was upstairs getting ready to go out with Tommy. When the young man turned up Stan was determined to have his say and only five minutes later there was a knock at the door. He let Tommy in, and with Amy still upstairs, Stan said sternly, ‘Now then, Tommy, I’m not happy about your mother barging in here earlier today and insulting my wife.’
‘She did what?’ he asked, looking shocked.
‘You heard me. Your mother wanted to know where Rose is, and when my wife couldn’t tell her she called her a tart. I’m not putting up with that.’
‘Mr Miller, I’m sorry, but this is all news to me. I arrived home to find my mother in a terrible state because she had found out about my dad and … and Rose, but she didn’t say anything about coming here.’
‘Yeah, well, she did, and if it wasn’t for my wife I’d have been up at your place giving your mother a piece of my mind.’
‘I’ll speak to her,’ Tommy said quickly. ‘I’ll see it doesn’t happen again.’
‘If you ask me, your mother’s a law unto herself and I can’t see her listening to you. She’ll be turning on Amy next and I’m not going to stand for that. In fact, now that there’s bad blood between your mother and us I want you to stop seeing my daughter.’
‘Dad!’
Amy had come downstairs and Stan turned to look at his daughter. He saw by the shocked expression on her face that she must have overheard, but he wasn’t going to backtrack. ‘I’m doing this for your own good,’ he said to her, his attention then returning to Tommy when the young man spoke.
‘Mr Miller, please, you can’t blame me for what my mother said and did.’
Stan was about to answer him, but it was Amy who spoke first.
‘Tommy,’ she said softly, ‘I was going to talk to you about this later, but to ease my dad’s mind I might as well get it over with now. I don’t blame you for your mother’s actions, but nevertheless she barged in here and insulted my mum. Unless your mother apologises, I’ll never speak to her again – though I doubt that would bother her. She doesn’t like me, I know that, and now that this has happened, maybe we should stop seeing each other.’
‘No, Amy, don’t say that. If she dares to insult your mother again, or you, I’ll walk out and find a place of my own.’
Stan looked at Amy, loving her loyalty towards her mother, but impressed by Tommy’s response too. In the light of this, he decided that it was up to Amy now. If she wanted to go on seeing Tommy, he wouldn’t stand in her way.
‘Do you really mean that, Tommy?’ Amy asked.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘In that case,’ she said smiling at last, ‘where are you taking me tonight?’
Stan saw the delight on Tommy’s face, but then the young man sobered and said, ‘Is that all right with you, Mr Miller?’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ he answered, straight-faced, hoping as the two of them left that his daughter had made the right decision.
Celia was waiting up when Thomas arrived home after seeing Amy, and she immediately asked, ‘Well, did you find out where your father is?’
‘No,’ he said sternly, ‘but I did find out that you barged into Mrs Miller’s house and insulted her.’
‘It wasn’t like that,’ Celia protested. ‘Phyllis Miller’s cousin went off with your father and I have every right to know where they are. She refused to tell me and then demanded that I leave her house.’
‘Was that before or after you called her a tart?’
‘Thomas, I was upset; angry that she was lying.’
‘She wasn’t lying, and I’m telling you now, Mother, if you don’t apologise, Amy will never have anything to do with you again.’
Celia almost laughed – that suited her just fine, yet she knew tears were the best defence for her behaviour and wailed, ‘I know I haven’t been myself since your father le … left me, that I’ve been acting irrationally, without thought, but I … I can’t seem to stop myself, Thomas.’
‘Mum, please, don’t cry,’ he said worriedly.
‘I … I can’t help it,’ Celia sobbed. ‘I almost went out of my mind when I heard about your father and that … that woman, and I was hysterical when I went to see Amy’s mother. Surely you can understand that? And as women, you’d have thought that Amy and her mother would make allowances for my behaviour too.’
‘Mum, I’m sorry. I can’t speak for them, but I should have realised how hard this has been for you.’
Celia felt a surge of triumph. She’d shown that Amy and her mother were lacking in understanding, a seed planted that she hoped would grow. She’d water it well – put more doubts about Amy in her son’s mind, and hopefully when the plant came into full bloom, that girl would be out of her son’s life for good.
On Saturday morning, Mabel wasn’t at her usual post, looking out of the window. Instead, Jack had gone to work a shift and she was sitting in a chair, still deeply hurt about the way Phyllis had spoken to her. All right, she had opened her mouth to Edna, but it hadn’t been the end of the world. Celia Frost was going to find out anyway, so there had been no need for Phyllis to get on her high horse. They’d been friends for years, but that had counted for nothing when Phyllis virtually chucked her out of
the house.
Mabel shifted in her seat, feeling hard done by. What she needed was a distraction, but she’d heard on the grapevine that the young couple had turned down Winnie’s place. That meant there’d be no removals van turning up, nothing to ogle as it was unloaded, and as her mind turned to Phyllis again, she was unable to stem the tears that flooded her eyes. Maybe she should go and talk to Phyllis, try to sort things out, but it was Saturday and Stan would be at home.
On the other hand, Mabel thought, sniffing, why should she be the one to do the running? She had tried to help Phyllis when Celia Frost had turned up, stopped her from laying into the woman, only to have Phyllis’s temper turned on her.
Mabel sniffed again. It should be Phyllis who apologised, not her, and until she did, then sod her! Agitated, Mabel stood up as she decided to put her case to Edna, sure that she was right and the woman would come down on her side. She hadn’t really had a lot of time for Edna in the past, thinking her slovenly, but now with nobody else to spout off to, Mabel had no choice.
It was then that Mabel heard the sound of a raised voice next door so she quickly grabbed a glass and put it against the wall, her ear pressed to it. She heard Frank Cole yelling, and though it was a bit muffled, his words were clear enough. Mabel frowned. He was ordering Carol to pull herself together, to take over doing the housekeeping now that her mother had gone and wouldn’t be back.
Mabel reeled away from the wall. As she’d suspected, all that talk of Daphne Cole going to look after a sick relative had been a pack of lies, something that Frank Cole had come up with to put people off the scent.
Feeling vindicated, Mabel decided to act. She put on a jacket, picked up her handbag and instead of going to talk to Edna, marched out of her house, heading for Lavender Hill and the police station.
‘Dad, I will do the housework,’ Carol said when her father at last calmed down. ‘It’s just that I don’t feel up to it yet.’
